


Sketch

by capthamm



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Rewrite, Canon Universe, Captain Cobra - Freeform, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan Angst, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan Fluff, Captain Swan - Freeform, Cursed Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Cursed Emma Swan, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), F/M, Granny's Diner (Once Upon a Time), Henry Mills - Freeform, Inspired by Once Upon a Time (TV), POV Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Separations, Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), curse, emma swan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:35:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22915606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capthamm/pseuds/capthamm
Summary: Killian Jones has been sketching a beautiful blonde woman for as long as he can remember. When she wanders into Granny's one morning, everything he thought was true is turned on its head.(Cursed Captain Swan AU- Post S5B Canon)
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Henry Mills, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 94
Kudos: 159





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back my lovelies! Hope you enjoy this brand new adventure from my crazy brain. This is probably the most intricate plot I've written. The story is 75% done so consider this a teaser!  
> Sketch has been a labor of love and I couldn't have done it without Jordan and Meg (and Liz!). Ya'll are seriously the greatest for giving me the confidence to post this. 
> 
> ". . ." indicates a small time jump!  
>    
> Have fun and enjoy (I hope)!

Killian Jones has used his inability to sleep past 5 a.m., and the comforting silence of dawn which follows, as his time to sketch for as long as he can remember. He meticulously fills in the distinct emerald of her eyes, and realizes he’s been drawing  _ her  _ for just as long, her figure feeling familiar as it flows from his pencil effortlessly. He’s not sure who she is, but he’s determined to meet her beyond the confines of pencil, paper and his most intimate dreams. Hope is not in his nature, but the light that radiates from her smile is infectious. He hates how ridiculous he sounds, his brother would kick him for falling for a literal drawing, but he’s always had this gut feeling he’d find her someday. 

Killian hazards a glance at his watch and sighs at the time. He loves his job at the docks, tending to  _ The Maritime Museum _ everyday. It’s actually exhibited on an old tall ship that feels more like home to him than his flat, but he’s been doing it for so long that he feels— stuck. He shakes it off, laughing at himself as he thumbs through the last few pages of his notebook. He places it on the shelf next to the others. Countless sketchbooks full of lifetimes with her are the only clear marker of time passing. He’s never really noticed the fog that day to day monotony has created over his life until today. He grabs one of the older sketchbooks, and opens to a random page. He finds a drawing of her in a soft white cloak dated four years ago. Shaking his head at his own obsession, Killian steals one more look at the mysterious blonde that haunts him each day, places the notebook back on the shelf, and turns to get ready for the day. 

Wandering into his room, Killian throws on his mock naval uniform which serves as the required garments for the museum. He looks in the mirror and flashes of what feels like a previous life begin to flood his memory— an exciting adventure, extreme loss, years of pain... He brushes them off, chalking them up to some forgotten dream and walks to the kitchen. Grabbing his morning coffee, he walks out the door, his gaze lingering on door of the the vacant flat across the hall.

Once outside, he looks towards the old broken clock in the center of town out of habit. He double takes when he sees the minute hand has moved from its usual concrete position of 8:15, marking the true time of 8:20am. He’s not sure why Mayor Mills decided to fix the clock now when it’s been broken for— well for forever, but the change stirs something in his gut that makes his steps lighter and his smile a bit brighter. He tries to tell himself that it is  _ not  _ the same feeling he gets while drawing his golden lass, but as he passes an unfamiliar yellow bug in front of Archie’s office, he’s unable to suppress the feeling of hope brewing deep inside. 

. . . 

It was a long day at work. An electrical spark from the night previous had burnt a hole in one of the sails and it took Killian much longer to repair than usual. As he opens the front door to Granny’s Diner, the smell of fried food and maple syrup welcomes him. He walks to his usual seat at the counter and notices Ruby has already set a shot of rum and a hot chocolate there. He smiles at the lass and pulls out  _ The Mirror _ , quietly working through that day’s news. 

He’s reading something about the school teacher, Mary Margaret Blanchard, and her work with patients at the local hospital when his tired trance is broken by the sound of a bell signaling a new customer. He looks towards the door instinctively, expecting Leroy or Archie, but drops the mug he’s drinking from straight to the floor when he sees  _ her.  _ The woman…  _ the woman _ … looks back at him with a puzzled look but then continues her walk up to Granny. Ruby comes over to help him pick up his mess and inevitably tries to explain who she is (Storybrooke isn’t a town for newcomers) but Killian doesn’t hear a word she says besides “showed up last night”. His eyes are transfixed on the lass as she speaks animatedly with Granny. It quickly feels like all the air has been taken from his lungs. 

He throws down what is probably way too much of a tip for a $4 drink and rushes out of the diner. The chilly air feels good as it washes over him. He runs his hands over his face, telling himself what he saw in the diner couldn’t  _ possibly  _ have been the same woman.

He hears the bell ring again and turns around to see her exiting the diner. She holds the door open long enough for Henry Mills to follow her through it. Killian doesn’t have time to contemplate before the young lad is bounding down the steps, “Killian! Have you met my mom?!” 

Perplexed, Killian responds, “The Mayor? Yes, Henry I think everyone—“

Henry’s eyes roll, “Not  _ that _ mom, Killian. My  _ real _ mom. This is Emma!” Henry motions back to  _ her  _ as she cautiously comes up behind him. 

Killian speaks before he can stop himself, “Emma…”

“Uh, hi, yeah… Emma— Emma Swan. Henry came and found me in Boston… somehow and I brought him back. Killian, right?” 

She makes eye contact as she speaks and Killian is overwhelmed by the likeness between her and the woman in the sketchbooks. With every syllable, her voice makes the scenarios in his books come to life. He realizes he needs to get ahold of himself when she begins to turn away rather awkwardly, “Uh, yes, love. Killian— Killian Jones. I run the maritime museum down by the water and Henry is a frequent customer of mine.” He finds his footing by focusing on the docks and Henry. He ruffles Henry’s hair and the kid laughs. He’s always seen a lot of himself in Henry, and being that neither of them have many friends, they spend a fair amount of time together. 

“Ah, well, it was nice to meet you, Killian.”

Emma begins to turn away once again and a courage shoots out of Killian that he didn’t know he had, “Will I see you again— I mean, will you be staying awhile.” Smooth. He scratches behind his ear, nervous and embarrassed. 

Emma replies shortly, “I’m not sure, yet. We’ll see.” She’s not angry with him, not at all, but he can tell she has her guard up. He wonders to himself if drawing her all these years makes him able to read her like a book. She wraps her arm over Henry’s shoulder, “Let’s go, kid. Have a good one, Killian.”

He waves to her and Henry, who seems to be already talking a mile a minute, and then just lingers there. He had never thought— although he hoped— that she’d be real. He looks up, still not positive she’s not a hallucination, but finds her walking away and talking enthusiastically with her  _ son _ — clear as the night sky. 

The next day Killian wakes and his morning proceeds much like the one before— he sketches, gets ready, grabs his breakfast and heads to work. As he walks down the street, he’s reminded of the welcome force which seems to have turned their little town upside down when he quite literally runs into her. 

“Shit, I’m so sorr— oh, Killian! Hi!”

Killian is startled by her touch, a brief flash of events that feel like memories flying through his brain in fast forward— a ship, mermaids, a young boy— before he grabs her shoulders in an attempt to keep them both upright. “Quite alright, love. Lucky to have started my day bumping into a fair lass such as yourself.” He chuckles lightly, releasing her shoulders and quickly stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. 

He swears he sees a touch of blush creep up her cheeks before she responds, “Ha, yeah, I suppose it’s nice running into a familiar  _ and _ friendly face.” 

“Someone giving you trouble, love?” He notices she flinches at his inadvertent pet name but doesn’t correct him. 

“Just the Mayor. Nothing I can’t handle.” She scoffs and seems confident, he thinks it’s his new favorite thing about her. 

“I have no doubts about that, Swan.” She smiles at him, the first real one she’s granted him, and he feels as though it will fuel his happiness for the next week. Before he can sour the mood, he decides to let her on her way, “Well, I’m sure you have somewhere to be, lass. I’ll catch you later, aye?”

“Aye? What are you, some three hundred year old sea captain?” She laughs and nudges his shoulder, another round of visions flooding his brain— a beanstalk, someone named Cora, a sword fight over a compass. He smiles back at her and begins to turn away, needing a relief from the stories which accompany her touch. 

“In another life maybe. Have a good day, love. See you at Granny’s tonight.” He knows it was risky, solidifying a meeting for that evening, but he feels so drawn to her that Killian can’t find it in him to care. His worry dissipates as her soft smile in response gives him enough hope to last the rest of the day. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you for all the love on the first chapter... here's chapter two! 
> 
> Thanks to my betas Jordan and Meg <3

Simply a few days of Emma’s proximity, has sent Killian Jones’ life into a complete and utter tailspin. 

If he’s home, his hands act on their own accord, sketching magnificent tales of sword fights, pirate ships, and heated moments in the depths of a forest. These stories flow freely from his mind to the paper, like memories from a past lifetime bubbling to the surface. The most noticeable change is his inclusion in the drawings, each one showing a shared moment between him and the woman whose presence he can only compare to that of a hurricane. His craft has soared to new heights, filling notebooks in record time. He commissioned Marco for another bookshelf when the last of his leather bound journals needed to be forced into the little space he had left. 

When he leaves his apartment, his senses go into overdrive, hyper focused on anything related to  _ her. _ Storybrooke never has visitors so he can rarely go five minutes without hearing her name across the street or muttered at lunch. He’s avoided Granny’s for that exact purpose; her name zipping through him like lightning every time it’s said aloud. He shudders to think the sensation he’d feel should they lock eyes or brush elbows; he’s not sure it’s one he could mask. These phenomena grew the more he ran into her, becoming exceedingly more prominent with every solid memory created. It pains him to stay away, but his fear of losing her keeps him at a safe distance. 

For a week now he’s done little but see her from behind; walking Henry to school, leaving Granny’s, or locking her new apartment across the hall. Killian will be the first to admit, her moving into apartment 815 has been a blessing and a curse. He feels as though he can better assure her safety from mere feet away, although he’s not sure why he so strongly feels that her safety is his responsibility, but he also has to try a hell of a lot harder to avoid her. They often function on an eerily similar time schedule, so he spends more time pressed up against his peep hole than he’d like to admit, waiting for her to leave or enter her apartment before he takes off. Despite his efforts, he’ll catch flashes of gold walking around a corner at the market or getting into her bug after his night at The Rabbit Hole. The pull is almost unbearable, but he refuses to act on instinct as it wills him to approach her. He has no way of knowing if she’s felt it too, but he’s unwilling to find out, somehow knowing it’ll trigger her instinct to run. For now, he keeps his distance and finds solace in the shared moments his imagination grants him through pen and paper. 

. . . 

It’s in the third week that the nightmares begin. They start off in minuscule flashes, Killian waking before they can dig themselves too deep into his psyche, but they quickly progress to full blown night terrors. Evil stories of succumbing to darkness, feeling it envelope his entire being, and figments of light begging him to stop. Each night he wakes in a cold sweat immediately after a twisted sword plunges into his gut. On the fifth night, he sees his attacker; her green, tear-soaked eyes burn into his as her form shifts from menacing to familiar and his world collapses around him. 

It’s the sixth day when Killian decides he needs to see Emma. Not the cold, dream Emma who pleads for mercy and aids in his death, but the warm, light woman he’s falling in love with from afar. He knows her schedule like the back of his hand; his efforts at avoidance now aiding in his need to be near her. This is how he walks out his front door at the exact same time as her, purposely bumping shoulders as they each turn towards the stairwell. As they touch, a searing pain runs through his body. It feels as though his skin is on fire, chains digging into his ribs. He collapses at the pain and Emma falls to his side.

“Killian, what the fuck?! Are you ok? Holy shit. Killian. I need to call someon—“

He grabs her hand, looking for solace in her touch. More visions cloud his mind, this time happier ones… a field of pink flowers, a dance, Emma practically glowing in a white cloak he remembers from his drawings. He speaks, the pain vanishing as quick as it arrived, “I’m fine, love. Must have worked a bit too hard at the docks yesterday.” He puts on his most convincing of smirks and brushes a stray hair from her eye. 

It takes every ounce of his self control not to press his lips to hers. 

“Actually, Swan, I’m glad I ran into you.” Emma scoffs, clearly offended. Killian isn’t daft, he knows it’s due to his absence, that doesn’t mean he expected her to care. “Really, love. I know I’ve been… distant.”

“That’s putting it lightly. I really thought we were turning into… how you say…  _ mates _ —“ Killian can’t help but chuckle at her poor rendition of his lax Irish accent. “—but then you just…” She’s fiddling with the buttons on the sleeve of her jacket and it takes no time at all for Killian to realize he’s hurt her. 

“Emma,” he grabs her chin, more flashes accompany the touch, but they’re softer now, more nostalgic and feeling based than before. “I apologize for my lapse in good judgement. I’m not sure what came over me, I’ve been a right git and I have every intention of making it up to you.” He makes eye contact, pleading with her for a second chance he has not earned. 

Emma nods. “Apology accepted, but you’re on probation, strict orders from the sheriff.” She proudly flashes the badge she was awarded the week prior. He may have been avoiding her, but news travels fast and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t proud when he heard of her new position. “The terms of your sentence are TBD.”

Killian feels a sense of relief wash over him at her playful tone. “Thank you, Swan. I’m not sure I deserve your forgiveness but I bloody well plan on taking it.”

She smiles softly back at him, “Don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge, really! See you around, Killian.”

“See you later, Swan.” He turns to unlock his door, realizing he’d left his apartment without much of anything, his mind too preoccupied with making amends. 

“Oh, and Killian?”

He smiles to himself, peace settling into his core as he relishes in their renewed friendship, “Yes, love?”

“Go to the fucking doctor.” He nods in response. She smiles, satisfied, and with that he watches her turn the corner and disappear once again. He laughs, knowing no medical professional can help when it comes to matters of the heart. 

. . . 

If you had told Killian Jones of three weeks ago that he’d be sitting in apartment 815 watching Emma Swan fail at making a frozen pizza, he’d have laughed in your face. It started the evening after he decided to approach her again, a serendipitous run in at Granny’s turning into long conversations about nothing in particular over a stack of onion rings. From there, it became a tradition to share their nightly meal. For awhile it wasn’t planned, both of them showing up to Granny’s and instinctively sitting together, but Killian desperately needed some veggies (without the fried breading) so he mustered up the courage to invite her over for dinner. 

_ What, like a date? _

_ Not a date, Swan. Just healthy food, real food? You’re killing me here.  _

_ Fine but on my nights we have pizza.  _

_ As you wish.  _

Since that night, they’ve switched off between the two apartments and Granny’s, keeping their locations on a steady rotation. It’s only happened once or twice that Emma’s had to work late, in which case Killian brings her grilled cheese and onion rings to the station. Henry joins them on occasion, but only at Emma’s or Granny’s, a glint in his eye every time Killian walks through the door. It seems the kid is quite perceptive to he and Emma’s budding friendship, and may have insinuated more than is present… at least on Emma’s side of things. Either way, he enjoys spending more time with the boy when Mayor Mills allows (however reluctantly). 

Emma’s apartment seems almost empty without him, this being the first night it’s the two of them alone in apartment 815, but Killian is grateful for some alone time with the enigma he’s quickly falling in love with. She’s magnetic, the way she lights up when she talks about her job or Henry, or how her nose scrunches up when he mentions distant memories of cleaning fish and tying spawn sacs for bait. Every single part of her has been dedicated to memory for as long as he can remember, his drawings allowing him to become intimate with every detail, but experiencing them live and in motion is an exhilaration he never wants to be rid of. She’s like the ocean breeze, refreshing and balancing in a life that for so long felt monotonous and off kilter. 

She turns around, finally finding her pizza cutter, and smiles proudly at him. He’s starstruck by her smile and silently vows to spend the rest of his life doing whatever it takes to make it her permanent accessory. 

“What are you looking at, Killian?” He’s shaken from his thoughts at the sound of her voice. It’s light and full of mirth. “You look like you’ve just won the lottery.” She laughs at her own joke, and he wishes he could make it his ringtone. 

“Nothing, love, just thinking.” He internally facepalms and his complete lack of a good excuse, but she just shrugs, unphased.

She goes back to cutting the pizza, “Squares or triangles?”

“Whatever you’d like, Swan.” He thinks to himself, that’s all he wants for her— her heart’s desire. Like a brick, reality hits him. He’s 100% in love with Emma Swan. He has been since the first moment her features left his sketchbook. He’s known her less than a month but feels like they’ve lived a thousand lives. As she places two pieces of pizza in front of him (triangles, as he knew they would be; something about rolling them into pizza taquitos) he speaks, almost not of his own accord, “Do you believe in multiple lifetimes?”

Her eyebrows furrow, seemingly unaware of the meaning behind his question. “I don’t know why not. I mean, the world has been around for millions of years, you’d think it’d only be fair for our souls to get a few tries.” He nods, satisfied with her answer, but aching for an explanation behind his visions, dreams, and drawings. The sketches have continued, albeit dying down a bit now that they’re back to creating memories in real time, and the nightmares subsided the day he reapproached her, but the visions are as prominent as ever. Each time they brush hands or even just bump shoulders in passing, more pieces of what can only be another life fall into place. He’s seen happy memories and stolen kisses but he’s also felt pain, heartbreak, and death, each memory lining up with a drawing the next morning as he hopes to sketch their story to completion. He longs to get closer to her; to know more about this Emma as well as the one that’s haunted him for a lifetime. The visions after simply a touch are overwhelming, he’s not sure he could handle a hug let alone anything more, yet he hopes for the chance to love her, wholly, completely, and unbridled. 

They’ve moved into the living room and Emma’s chattering on about something that happened at work today, apparently Leroy got into an argument with the nuns again. She seems so comfortable with him, he’s not sure how they’ve come this far but he’ll be damned if he lets it slip away. “I’m going to get another slice of pizza. Do you want any, Jones?” She’s standing up from the couch and he sees it coming before she does— her foot tangled in one of the no less than two dozen throw blankets she owns. He acts quickly, catching her before she falls ass first into the glass coffee table. With no care for the consequences he pulls her close, using his height to steady her, a vision pounding into his head like a ten ton hammer:

_ Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! _

_ It’s about bloody time.  _

_ It’s a tripwire, quite a security system.  _

_ That’s a plausible excuse for grabbing me, but next time, don’t stand on ceremony.  _

The pounding stops but Killian is more shaken than ever. What can only be described as a memory playing like a movie in his head, this vision was the most coherent yet. Killian finds he’s most unsettled by the familiarity of the conversation. Without prompt, he knew the context of what they were doing and why they were doing it, he could practically smell the treasure surrounding them and knew a giant lay sleeping feet away.

_ A giant?!  _

He’s certain he’s gone insane, but is swiftly distracted by the way Emma is looking up at him, her eyes wide. He wonders for a moment if this vision was shared, but retreats from the notion of asking. He’s finally gotten close with her and couldn’t bear to ruin it over what could very well be his own imagination getting the best of him. She smiles and mutters thanks, both of them awkwardly separating after realizing they held on a bit too long. Emma retreats into the kitchen, presumably for more pizza, and Killian welcomes the moment to collect his thoughts. 

The more he gets to know Emma Swan the more confusing his life becomes, but the thought of not knowing Emma Swan sends a pain through his chest unlike one he’s ever experienced before. He makes one more silent vow that evening, to stand by her side as long as she’ll let him, consequences and visions be damned. By the time she’s returned (with pizza for both of them) he’s resolute in his decision, and a peace washes over him. She doesn’t bring up their sudden embrace and neither does he, unwilling to lose the comfort of her friendship, but as soon as he’s alone again, his dreams are riddled with moments of them and he wakes up the next day more of a goner than when he went to bed. 

. . .

Henry is helping Killian organize museum pamphlets and babbling on. He goes silent for a second and then looks over at Killian, “Do you ever feel like you’re in an alternate universe?”

Henry has been hanging around the museum all day today and has probably only stopped talking once or twice, but this question’s similarity to the one he asked Emma only a few days earlier (and the one that’s been plaguing his mind for weeks) catches Killian off guard. He stutters a bit but decides to answer honestly, “I think it’s possible, lad. Why’d you ask?”

“My mother doesn’t love me.”

Killian’s gut sinks, unsure how to breach this topic. He quickly chooses to feign ignorance, “Henry, Emma loves you very much. She’s just a bit prickl––”

“Killian, you know I didn’t mean Emma…” 

He sighs, rubbing his hands across his face. This boy is too smart for his own good. “Aye, lad. I know. I’m sure Mayor Mills loves you. She’s just strict, but that’s  _ because  _ she loves you.”

“No, this is different. She doesn’t care about a single thing I do unless it’s with Emma… Probably because she’s  _ not  _ my mom. Not either of them. I know I’m right. I found–– nevermind.”

Killian can hardly track what Henry is trying to say but he can tell Henry wants to tell him whatever it is. He’s like a balloon, ready to pop. It’s Killian’s move and he knows what he says next will dictate his and the boy’s relationship going forward, “What’d you find, my boy?”

“Promise not to walk me to Dr. Hopper’s like my mom.”   


Killian uses his right hand to cross his heart, “Pirate’s oath.”    
  
Henry chuckles at him and Killian fails to see the joke, but before he can ask, Henry is running into the coat check presumably to retrieve whatever it is he found. He returns quickly with his bookbag. 

“Ok, but you have to  _ promise _ not to say anything to Emma until she’s ready. This is top secret.”

He’s uneasy, keeping something which is apparently a big deal from Emma, especially when it has to do with her son, but he promised Henry he could trust him and he’ll be damned if he betrays that trust. “Aye, lad. I promise.”

Henry nods, Killian’s reassurance seemingly satisfactory, and reaches into his bag. He pulls out a brown leather bound book and plops it on Killian’s lap. The book is the same light brown color as Killian’s sketchbooks, a coincidence he couldn’t keep from entering his mind, and is painted with a rustic gold leaf, the words “Once Upon a Time…” scrawled delicately across the cover. A gold braiding borders both the front and back, and for some reason, Killian is transfixed by its beauty, but hesitant to open it. Henry breaks him from his trance, “Go on, open it up.”

Killian flips to a random page to find words written in a beautiful calligraphic style on the left: 

_ The enter the ball arm in arm, the nerves for what they’re about to do written across their faces. He elbows her, reminding her to smile, no matter how forced.  _

He turns his gaze to the right page… suddenly unable to ground himself, and shocked by what he’s seeing, Killian drops the book. It makes a loud thud as it hits the hardwood of the ship and Henry scrambles to pick it up. “Hook! Do you remember? Did it work?”

He grabs the book back from Henry. Tracing his fingers over the illustration of him and Emma entering what must be ball referred to on the opposite page. He hasn’t drawn this yet, but the style is unmistakable as his own. He shakes his head in confusion, “Hook? What? No? How… where did you–– those are  _ my drawings _ Henry… where did you?”

“It just appeared to me one day and I remembered… well some of it. A lot of it’s super fuzzy but I remember the important stuff.” 

“Remembered… what?”

“You, my mom, my  _ other  _ mom… and she’s  _ NOT _ Zelena. I’m not sure which alternate universe we’ve landed in but this is all wrong. We have to find my mom… she’ll know what to do.”

“Emma? I thought you just said––”

“No, not Emma… Regina.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are ramping up... Enjoy this cliffhanger! I look forward to hearing your theories :) Kudos and comments make my day. Ya'll are wonderful <3


	3. Chapter 3

“Do you think we could go somewhere different for dinner tonight?” Killian jumps at her question. They’ve been sharing lunch over companionable silence; Emma worked the late shift the night prior and he was pretty sure she hadn’t eaten since their shared dinner almost 18 hours ago. 

“Of course, love. I could make us something different, if you’d prefer?”

She smiles, one of the soft ones, “I appreciate it, Killian, but I was thinking something… nicer.” He suddenly gets the idea that she’s… nervous?

  
“Swan…” 

Suddenly she begins to babble, “We don’t have to I just thought it’d be nice and Henry is with Mayor Mills and David said he’d take the night shift and we really don’t–”

Killian cuts her off with a laugh, “Swan, are you asking me out on a date?” He’s absolutely stunned when the words leave his mouth, but it’s too late to turn back now. He looks at her with what he prays is a mix of encouragement of hope. 

“I mean… yes?” She’s playing with her food now, swirling her fork in a mix of ranch and ketchup and anxiously avoiding his gaze. 

He tries not to seem _too_ eager, deciding to go the cheeky route he knows will put her at ease, “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you out?”

Her eyes practically roll into the back of her head, and a smile breaks out on her face, “I should’ve known you’d be old fashioned, _mate_. You talk like a 19th century pirate.” 

He smirks at her quip, remembering Henry’s amusement at his “pirate’s oath” yesterday, and leans in a bit closer, “Well, as you can see, my physique has retained the youthful glow that you seem to think my dialect lacks.” He clicks the “k” and leans back in his chair, running his tongue under his bottom lip in an attempt to keep a calm demeanor. “I’ll happily accept on one condition, you let _me_ plan the evening.” 

She rolls her eyes again, this time more playfully, “I know how to plan a date.”

“No, Swan, you know how to bail bonds-person, I know how to plan an evening out. I’ll pick you up at 8.” He winks and stands up to leave, throwing their trash out and smirking once more for good measure. She smiles back at him (he‘s positive he’s never seen anything so beautiful), and while his exterior is calm, cool, and collected, the range of emotions raging inside of him gives him the adrenaline to plan the perfect evening in no less than 8 hours.

. . .

He plans it in four.

On pure adrenaline. 

The rest of the time is filled with Killian sketching some of the most detailed scenarios to date... 

_A dance, Emma in the same red as the illustration in Henry’s book… “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”_

_A walk, arm in arm surrounded by street lights._

_A booth at Granny’s. She’s smirking. “It’s bad form to mess with a man’s hook, Swan.”_

_A couch. She moves their intertwined hands, placing herself into the crook of his arm. She smiles up at him softly. “I’d love to know more about your beginnings.”_

The dialogue comes to him in waves, not unlike a movie playing in his head. He’s startled by the sound of his own voice, but immediately relieved when he realizes how comforted she is by it. Ever since his chat with Henry, he notices the presence of _the hook_ in his artwork now. Usually hidden or cropped out before, his left hand catches the light or plays a main role in many of the drawings. He hasn’t had a chance to look through the book more which is the only thing keeping him from spilling his guts to Emma. It’s a mystery to him, and he wants to understand it better before he drags Emma into it. 

In no time at all, he’s rushing to get ready for the evening that’s beginning to feel less like a first date and more like deja vu. 

. . .

He thought Emma’s soft smile was the peak of beauty in this world, but the way she looks standing across from him now is unmatched. Emma has always been stunning, her green eyes shining like emeralds in the sun and her hair rivaling the beauty of the night sky, but tonight she has him positively speechless. Suddenly, with no trigger, a vision hits him… 

_He opens the door to a vision in pink._

_“You look stunning, Swan.”_

_She blushes. “You look…”_

_“I know.” He smirks, confident and cool. He holds out a rose with his left hand and the room goes still. He hears Mary Margaret mutter “Emma…” as Emma looks at his hand stunned._

_“The dark one kindly restored what he once took from me.” He says with a tinge of uncertainty, promptly hiding the Dark One’s true motives._

_“So what do I call you now, ‘Captain Hand’?” She chuckles at her own joke. He rolls his eyes._

_“Killian will do.”_

As his sense of reality returns, Killian stares down at his own left hand, holding a similar rose between his metallic fingers. He’s not sure how many lifetimes he’s lived, but it seems in at least one he didn’t lose his hand. 

“Killian, is everything alright? We don’t _have_ to do this…” 

He flinches at her uncertainty, never wanting her to doubt the absolute joy her presence brings him, “I’m quite alright, Swan. Just traveled elsewhere for a moment, if I may be so bold, I believe I got lost in your eyes.” She blushes the same way Emma from his vision did and he tries desperately not to compare the two of them, or think about the fact that, if Henry is right, they are one in the same. He offers her the crook of his elbow, “Shall we, milady?”

She rolls her eyes at his aged linguistics but takes his arm immediately, effectively starting their first official date, and a string of similar memories scrolling through his mind.

. . .

He’s able to keep it together for most of their date, despite the slight touches and intertwined hands sending flashes of memories coursing through him. He walks her back to her door, it’s not much of a feat considering they’re neighbors, but he’s a gentleman nonetheless. She lingers a bit in the hallway, making small talk about her early morning at the station tomorrow. He’s half listening, only because it feels like every particle in his body is rushing towards where her thumb is rubbing casually against his. He had hoped his presence had the same effect on her, but if her nonchalance about constantly touching him is any indicator, that is not the case. 

His theory is proven utterly wrong when he leans in to kiss her cheek. She stops him dead in his tracks, putting a hand on either side of his face, and he worries he’s upset her, “Swan, I’m sorry. I—“ Without warning, Emma is surging forward and as her lips connect with his, the world shifts on its axis and Killian practically loses his balance. Memories come pouring in like rainwater through a downspout, some new, some with which he’s become well acquainted. He sees highlights of a life lived by her side and pulls her closer, deepening the kiss and clutching to the memories he can only hope are real. 

Suddenly, the reel turns dark. There’s tears and yelling, the feeling he can only relate to that of a broken promise pulsing through him. Then there’s a moment of silence, as though someone pressed mute. He hears her sob and his plea for the death of a hero and he realizes what’s to come. Before he can react, he feels the jagged blade split through his center. It takes everything in him not to react to the searing pain overtaking his body. It’s then that Emma steps back, a soft smile on her face, but her eyes almost seem somewhere far away. He gives his best attempt at a reassuring smile, “Swan, that was…”

She chuckles and the residual pain dissipates immediately. “Yeah, Jones, it was.” She presses onto her toes to kiss him on the check, leaving a small spark behind as she turns on her heels. She looks back once more, “Night, Killian.”

He stands there, cemented in place and reeling from what just took place, but the flirtatious smirk gives him peace for a moment, just long enough to respond. “Goodnight, Swan.” 

He hears her door latch and slowly moves towards his own. Emotionally exhausted, he changes and immediately falls into a deep sleep upon hitting the mattress. 

. . .

Any worry Killian had about the date straining their relationship vanished the moment he found Emma Swan knocking on his door the next morning. “Good Morning, love. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

”I’m out of milk and desperately craving hot chocolate and you _always_ have milk.” She smiles widely at him. “So are you going to let me in or will I have to go to Granny’s alo—“ Killian cuts her off by grabbing her wrist and playfully pulling her into his flat. She giggles loudly, and he pulls her close to his chest, actively thwarting any visions threatening to cloud his mind. He wants to be here with her— fully present. She shyly glances up at him, “Hi.”

“Hello, love.” He kisses her forehead and lets go, her warmth immediately leaving his body. “I’ll work up some hot chocolate, coffee, and eggs. Make yourself at—“ He stops and chuckles to himself as she flops onto the couch, not needing his invite. They’ve shared many dinners here but are usually contained to the kitchen. Emma swears her couch is more comfortable so, on the frequent occasions in which the night extends to a movie, they shuffle across the hall. 

As Killian enters the kitchen, he sees Emma stand to explore his place a bit. A warm feeling flutters in his stomach at a scene which feels incredibly domestic. He’d give anything to stay in this moment forever.

Anything. 

He’s cooking eggs when he hears the front door slam. “Emma?” He waits a moment for her response and when he doesn’t hear one, puts the spatula down and wanders into the living room. When he sees an empty living room, every good feeling escapes his body and he feels as though his bones have turned to ice. A nauseous feeling hits his gut when he notices one of his sketchbooks laying on the coffee table. He rushes over to it and immediately recognizes one of his oldest drawings of Emma and her bug. The sinking feeling worsens when he realizes the date is long before Emma ever arrived in Storybrooke. 

Killian’s heart is somehow racing and yet feels as though it’s stopped all at once. He panics, not sure how to explain something that he himself doesn’t fully understand. Reaching for his phone, he does the only thing he can think to do. As the phone rings, he contemplates hanging up at least a dozen times, but he can’t bear for their story to end like this. His heart stutters when he finally hears the line pick up: 

“Killian?”

“Hi, Henry. No time to explain now, mate. Let’s go find Regi— your _other_ mom.”

He can practically hear the smile grow across Henry’s face. “I knew you’d believe me. Pick me up at Granny’s in 20. Operation Red Apple is a go.”

Killian doesn’t have time to question Henry before he hears the click of him hanging up. He may be bloody insane for following the hunch of a hormonal 15-year-old, but it’s either give up, or trust that somehow, somewhere he has the life he’s always wanted with Emma Swan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging in there! Little fluff, lotsa angst, that’s how we roll 👏👏👏 Thank you for your continued support and kind words. Always up for bantering in the comments and appreciate kudos more than you know ❤️ Come fangirl with me on twitter @roiiyham!


	4. Chapter 4

“Henry, are you positive she’s down here? Your mo— Mayor Mills is not going to be happy if we break into the hospital with nothing to show for it, mate.” Killian is picking the lock to a supposed basement door that Henry swears will lead to his lost adoptive mother. Thankfully he’s filled Killian in on more details over the past few days as they hatched a plan to find this mysterious woman. 

“Yes, Hook.” (Oh yeah, he’s calling him that fulltime now. Apparently Killian was in fact a 300 year old sea captain in another life, or realm… Henry is much more versed in this than he is.) “This is where we’ve always kept people we want hidden away for some reason or another. It only makes sense Zelena would do the same… assuming she kept my mom alive at all.” 

That’s the other snag in their “operation”, Henry’s book has some missing pages and his memories are few and far between. He’s not exactly sure how they ended up where they are now, but he’s confident his mother— Regina— will be able to help. “I trust you, lad.”

As he finishes his sentence, the door clicks open revealing a dark staircase. Henry turns to Killian, “Ok, Wookie Prisoner gag.”

“I beg your pardon?” Killian is pretty sure the lad just spoke gibberish. “Why can’t we just walk down there?”

“You haven’t seen Star Wars… even in this realm?” Killian shakes his head. Henry rolls his eyes in exasperation, “It’s not important but either way there’s always a nurse at the desk and she’s more likely to believe me than you.”

Killian would be hard pressed to argue with that so he shrugs and begins his descent. Before he gets to the second step, Henry grabs his arm, “Wait take this. You’re better with it than me.” He pulls a sword from a sheath in his belt and Killian has to bend back to avoid losing his nose. 

“Me? Better? You’re bloody insane if you think—“

“Trust me… it’s muscle memory. Now let’s go find my mom.” Killian grabs the sword and it feels shockingly comfortable in his grip. He carefully places it through his belt loop and gives Henry a reassuring nod. 

“Aye, lad. Lead the way.”

Henry’s “wookie prisoner gag” worked like a charm and before he knew it, Hook was picking the lock to the door Henry assured would lead to his mother. As he heard the tumblers click, he breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Henry. Scratching behind his ear, he urged the boy to go ahead but assured him that he’d be right behind him. As the door swung open, Henry froze almost as if he’d hit a wall as soon as he made eye contact with a brunette woman on the other side. Killian stumbled backwards, startled by Henry’s sudden halt and the fire ball the woman seemed to be holding in her hand. When he regained his composure (a fucking fire ball?), he heard the woman whisper “Henry?” and rush forward to hug the boy. She kisses his forehead and a rush of light floods the space surrounding Henry. 

“Mom! I— ” Henry, visibly confused, turns to Killian, “Ho—“ 

The woman cuts Henry off, “H— Henry… do you remember?”

“I remember you, mom. I remember… everything.” Henry is hugging the women, presumably the Regina they were after, tightly now and Killian could not be more confused. 

“Aye, that’s great lad, but it’d be bloody fantastic if you all clued me in on what’s happening here— were you holding fire?!”

At the sound of his voice, Regina’s head snaps up. Her gaze is as confused as the words that leave her mouth, “Hook? You’re… alive?”

Henry looks towards Killian and visibly gulps. Frustrated, Killian spits back, “As alive as I’ve ever been, what the bloody hell is going on here? How do you know who I am? Why is everyone calling me Hook? Does it look like I’d be caught dead with a bloody perm?”

Henry turns to Regina, “Mom, he doesn’t remember. None of them do and Zelena… she’s—“

Regina cuts him off, “Not here Henry. Hook— or Killian,” she turns to Killian, “whatever, I’m assuming you have a home? We need to get out of her before my sister finds out and we need a place to talk.”

“Aye, love. An apart—“ Before Killian can finish his sentence he’s being engulfed by a cloud of purple smoke, and in a matter of seconds, they’re standing outside apartment 814. 

  
. . .

  
It feels like a lifetime later, but Henry and Regina finally get Killian caught up. The story they weave is intricate and would be unbelievable if he didn’t have his own artwork and visions to back up every single one of their tales. Perhaps the most outrageous part of it all is that Emma Swan is willingly his, so much so that she went to The Underworld just to get him back.

No. Scratch that. The most unbelievable part is that, last Henry and Regina can remember, despite the efforts of many, Killian did not make it out of said Underworld. He’s kept those drawings to himself, often letting his tears smudge the art, but the elevator they describe is startlingly familiar. Neither of them is sure how he’s sitting in front of them today and they both seem a little on edge because of it. 

“Henry, how can we be sure this,” she motions to Killian, “isn’t Hades playing some elaborate trick to keep Emma from breaking the curse?”

Killian starts to interject when Henry speaks, “Mom. I know this is Killian.” He turns to look at Killian, “I just know.”

Killian gives Henry a soft smile and nods. Regina eyes him warily but seems to take her son’s word for it. She nods, “Well then. I suppose it’s time I had a chat with my sister.” Regina goes to stand when Henry puts his arm out. 

“No, she can’t know you’re here yet. My mom— Emma has to break whatever this curse is.”

“So what am I supposed to do, just sit here and twiddle my thumbs?!” She looks at Killian, but he feels as though he’s without even a pawn in this game of chess. 

“Don’t look at me, love. Henry’s captain of this ship.” Henry beams at Killian and he can’t help the blush that creeps up his neck. “That being said, I do have a spare room and you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like.”

“Perfect!” Henry practically jumps off the couch. “For now, everyone just stay put and keep up with the day to day. Mom,” he glares at Regina, “that means you have to stay out of sight. If Zelena sees you before we figure out how we ended up here, we’re screwed.”

Killian glances at his watch and instinctively stands up. Regina glares at him, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Embarrassed, Killian scratches behind his ear, “I—uh have a daily—“ Regina rolls her eyes.

“Of course you two found each other again. Emma’s waiting for you at Granny’s isn’t she?”

“Again, love?” Killian wonders to himself how many times he and Emma have been separated. 

“Long story that I really don’t feel like sharing. It’s bad enough I’m stuck here with you, I shouldn’t have to deal with you and Emma making eyes.”

Killian scoffs, “We do not—“

“—make eyes. Yeah yeah I know, Emma says the same thing.” With that, Regina turns to find her room. 

“Wait!” Henry stops her. “If Emma sees you, and she’ll probably see you if you’re living here, you can’t speak a word of this. She has to remember on her own time.” 

Regina sighs, “You’re right, Henry. If she asks, I’m Hook’s… sister?” She turns her question towards Killian. 

“I’m not sure Emma wants much to do with me right now, but should I gain her favor again, that works for me. I’m going to head to Granny’s now,” Killian runs his hands over his face. He knows she doesn’t want to see him, but he can’t seem to stay away, even if it’s only watching from afar. “Are you coming, my boy?” Henry nods and turns to his mother. 

“I’m so glad to have you back. Love you, mom.” Killian watches as Regina brushes Henry’s hair out of his face and kisses his forehead. He notices how her gaze softens whenever she looks at her boy and his heart aches recognizing that he does the same.

Once they say their goodbyes, Killian tells Regina to help herself and walks Henry out of the apartment. As they turn the corner they run right into someone. Killian lifts his head to apologize before realizing who it is… 

Zelena. 

This is the first time Killian has encountered her since learning of her alter ego— the Wicked Witch— or really at all. He’s busy picturing her with green skin when Henry, seemingly unphased by her presence, speaks up, “Hi, Mom! Killian and I are headed to Granny’s for a milkshake. Do you wanna come?” 

Zelena looks at Henry with a mix of shock and forced peasantry, “Not now, Henry. I’m here to have a chat with Emma. Do you know where she is?” With her last sentence, Zelena looks up at Killian. She seems startled by his presence (he assumes because she thought he was dead), but any hint of surprise is gone as soon as it’s there. 

Feigning ignorance, Killian answers the question clearly directed at Henry, “She and I aren’t exactly “simpatico” at the moment, lass.” He smirks wickedly and awkwardly laughs at his own joke.

Zelena seems unamused, glancing between the two of them, “Hmm, right then. Well if you do happen to see her, let her know I'm looking for her.”

“Aye, Mayor Mills. Have a nice evening.” Killian attempts to keep up a friendly facade, but Zelena answers with a suspicious nod and turns to retreat down the stairs. 

Once she’s out of earshot Henry sighs, “Phew… that was close. Now, let’s go see Emma.” The sound of her name briefly illeviates his unrest but he quickly remembers her current frustration with him and the churning in the pit of his stomach returns. Despite his literal mixed emotions, Killian wants to see Emma again more than anything. He nods at Henry and follows him down the steps towards Granny’s. 

. . . 

As Killian walks through the door, his eyes meet hers almost instantly. She’s walking through the backdoor and almost stumbles at the sight of him. He’s frozen in the doorway until Leroy pushes past him. As he looks down to apologize, he catches Emma turning back towards where she came from out of the corner of his eye. Henry looks up at him and nods, he smiles gratefully and takes off after her. 

He catches up to her in the hallway of the inn, just as she’s turning the key to a room. He stops a second, upset with himself that he ever made her uncomfortable enough to leave her own home. He calls her name before she enters the room, “Emma… Emma! Wait!”

“Leave me alone, Killian.” He’s caught up to her and she's standing in the doorframe. He counts it as a win that she stopped at all. 

“Love, I can explain…” 

“Can you?!” She looks furious and he’d give anything for her to look at him the way she did only a few days ago, but he realizes he’s spoken too soon. 

“Well, no… I mean, I–” Emma rolls her eyes.

“Goodnight, Killian.” He stops the door with his hand and she whips around, giving him an icy stare. 

“Don’t… don’t do this, Swan. If I could tell you I would, I just–” He knows he’s not making sense, that he is watching her slip away right before his eyes… he just needs more time. “I need more time.” 

“What?! To stalk me some more?” She’s almost yelling now and tears are forming in her eyes. Killian feels as though he’s being stabbed in the chest, but this time no vision accompanies the pain. “Why the fuck would I want to be anywhere near you?! I _trusted_ you, Killian, and all this time you’ve kept this from me.”

“Swan, I wanted to tell you, I did! I just–– how would you have reacted? I can’t explain why–– I just…” 

“I would’ve probably reacted a hell of a lot better if you had told me rather than left me to find it on my own. Now unless you can explain why you have a drawing of me dated two years ago, don’t talk to me again.” She’s choking back tears once again and it’s taking every ounce of Killian’s willpower not to comfort her. 

He’s about to speak when he hears Henry yell, “Mom! It’s not his fault… he’s just doing what I asked. He swore a pirate’s oa––” 

She turns on Killian, “You’ve wrapped my son into this, too?” She scoffs at him and all he can do is hang his head. 

“I’m so sorry, Swan. I never intended––” The look on her face stops him mid-sentence. He’s let her down, but he fears it’ll be worse should they not return to the life which is apparently waiting for them once they break this curse. “I’m sorry.”

She nods through her tears, glancing between him and Henry, “Take Henry home for me. Goodnight, Killian.” He hears the click of her door and sighs. 

Accepting his defeat, Killian turns to Henry, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Let’s go, my boy. Your mother is going to wonder where you’re––” 

“She’s not my mother!” Henry rips away from Killian’s grasp. Killian is taken aback by Henry’s frustration, the boy is always so hopeful and calm. “This is all wrong. You’re practically my step-father and you don’t even know who I am!” Killian doesn’t know what to do, so he follows his instinct and pulls Henry in for a hug. He feels Henry choke back a sob, and hugs him tighter. 

“We’re going to make this all right, Henry. I may not remember everything, but we found each other even in this upside down world, and we will find our way back, lad.” He pulls back, grasping each of Henry’s shoulders, “Pirates oath.” Henry smiles at him softly. 

“Thanks, Hook. Our family sure as hell doesn’t like to give up. Let’s go home.” He nods but Killian can’t help the smile that creeps across his face at the thought of being included in anyone’s idea of family. He walks Henry home, contemplating the word— family— and selfishly hoping (there’s that blasted word again) he is able to return to his soon.

. . .

Killian wakes up to pounding on his apartment door. Wandering into the living room, he finds a disgruntled Regina on the couch. “It’s for you.” He could hear the sarcasm dripping from her voice and didn’t bother with a response. Rubbing his eyes he unlatches the door part way to reveal a very distraught Emma biting her nails and pacing. 

He opened the door all the way, “Swan?”

“Killian… I– I didn’t know where else to––” She’s still pacing, moving her hands around frantically. He takes a chance and grabs her shoulders. Flashes of Henry laying still on the deck of a ship soar through his memory. He fights them back. 

“Swan, what’s happened?” He’s searching her eyes for something— any hint of what’s troubling her— on but all he finds is fear. 

She chokes back a sob, “It’s Henry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst is always fun right?! Hang in there— it’s about to get wild! 
> 
> Please express your love with kudos and comments (or i guess dislike in the comments too)! Hope everyone is holding up alright with the crazy of the world right now. ❤️ Sending love, peace, and captain swan!


	5. Chapter 5

“What do you _mean_ you confronted, Zelena?” Killian is furious. He’s not entirely sure how he got roped into Regina being his responsibility but he’s apparently not that good at it. 

Regina looks nonplussed. “You two,” she motions between Emma and Killian, “were taking too long so I took matters into my own hands.” Killian shoots at glance at Emma. She still looks incredibly worried except now there’s more than a hint of confusion there, too. She’s been silent since Regina barreled up to the door demanding to know what Emma had done to _her son_ , but he can see the gears spinning in her head. 

“Don’t put this on us, Regina.” He lets out a frustrated grunt and immediately feels Emma’s hand on his shoulder. It’s followed by a string of visions, most of them including Henry, but he shoved them down again. He looks towards her and wants to do absolutely everything he can to make sure she never has that look in her eyes again. “You can’t possibly expect us to— wait, two days ago you were fine… what made you try and hurry this process up?“

“Nothing. I’m just impatient.” She diverts her eyes and Killian _knows_ she’s lying. 

He’s about to push when Emma interjects, “No no no no. You don’t get to _lie_ to us. I don’t even know who you are but apparently because of you _my son_ is missing. The truth. Now!” Killian has never seen conviction as beautiful as Emma’s. He’s stunned for a moment but places a supportive hand on her back, more visions flood in, but he turns his gaze to Regina expectantly. 

Regina looks like she wants to throw one of those fireballs at Emma but remains calm. “As I’ve already told you, he’s my son, too, but if you _must_ know, I saw Robin.” 

Killian stares at her, “You saw the dirt covered camp director and it made you go off the rails? Why the fu—“

“We wer— are together. In the _other_ life…He has a daughter and I assumed Zelena had her… I was right, but my mag—” Regina looks down again, stopping abruptly and smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt. 

Killian relaxes at the confession, not being able to fully fathom what that must be like, but he tenses again once Emma moves out of his embrace. “Other life?” She sounds confused and hurt, directing her questions at Killian. 

He winces at the tone, still unable to grasp the concept fully himself, “Aye, love. Apparently we’re all cursed, ripped from our families and,” he looks down, unable to meet her eye, “those we love.” He glances up at Regina, begging for some back up. Regina just shakes her head in a silent plea to keep Emma in the dark a bit longer. 

Emma looks between the two of them like they’re crazy. “Look, I don’t care if you’re both certifiably insane, Henry is missing. He was supposed to show up for breakfast at 7:00 sharp and didn’t. If he truly is _your son_ ” she says dripping with malice, “then you’ll give a shit and come help find him.” She turns to Killian then, “I know you love him.” Killian stumbles at her words, only just now realizing how true they are. He nods. “I know things between us aren’t… just aren’t... but he’d—“

Killian cuts her off, “I’d do anything for the boy, Swan. You must know that otherwise my door would not be the one you knocked on.” He looks at her with all the sincerity he can muster and recognizes the hint of a smile forming on her lips. 

She nods and then looks between the two of them once again, “Alright then, let’s get my son back.”

. . .

Killian was at least slightly used to the concept of magic at this point; he’d spent enough time with Henry, and Regina was always using it around the house. Emma on the other hand was failing miserably to hide her shock. Ever calm and collected, he noticed the way she twisted at the sleeve of her jacket and how her eyes darted around, looking anywhere but Regina’s spellbook. Cautiously, he places a hand on her lower back, hoping to give her some sort of peace. He attempts not to smile when she noticeably leans into his touch. 

“Ok, this spell should take us to Henry. It’s a simple locator spell even you could do, Miss Swan.” 

Killian tenses. If his drawings are any indication, in this other life Emma definitely has magic, he’s just not entirely sure she is ready to hear that. Emma sputters back, “M-- me? Nuh uh. No magic here.” 

Regina rolls her eyes and scoffs, not willing to give any more effort towards Emma’s denial. Killian shoots her a look and she nods reluctantly. “Anyway, we just pour this on his scarf and it should lead us right to him.”

“Should?” Emma asks doubtfully. Killian gently traces his thumb over the small of her back, urging every bit of support he has into the small gesture. Emma turns to look at him and gives him a soft smile. “Whatever, it’s better than anything I’ve got.” 

Regina turns up her chin, seemingly satisfied with Emma’s decision to back down. She sprinkles the contents of a small vial onto Henry’s striped scarf and within seconds it lifts into the air. Regina smirks with satisfaction and Emma’s breath hitches. She looks at Killian and he nods, doing his best to be reassuring. The scarf hovers for only a moment before moving through the apartment and out the open door. Emma hesitates to follow it but eventually leads the way through the door and down the steps following Regina and the scarf. 

They’ve been walking for what feels like an eternity, through the woods no-less, when they approach a seemingly abandoned farmhouse and the scarf drops to the ground. Regina scoffs, “Of course…” and Emma and Killian both shoot her questioning looks. She rolls her eyes, apparently frustrated with their lack of memories of this place. 

“We can’t help what we don’t know, Regina.” Killian spits out. Emma grabs his hand, an attempt to calm him down ruined by the flood of memories which accompany it. 

_“HOOK!”_

_He feels like he’s drowning, water filling his lungs. Everything’s black and all he can hear is Emma’s voice, “Hook. Hook. Hook wake up! Killian! Killian, come back to me! Son of a bitch.”_

_He feels pressure on his lips, and with a flash of light and an electric current to his lips, he hears a pained whisper, “Hook, come back to me…”_

_With that, the water leaves his lungs, he looks up to see Emma surrounded by sky. He touches his lips, “Swan, what have you done?”_

Reality floods his vision once again, and he frantically looks to Emma; grounding himself in the green of her eyes. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. “What the fuck was that?”

Killian recoils at her question and realizes she’s let go of his hand and put more space between the two of them. He sighs, “I’m— not sure, love.” 

“That was— was that? Your hand was a— you— you were drowning… you were _dying._ ” She looks at Killian, a sort of begging look on her face, desperate for answers he wishes he could give her. 

“Henry… he thinks—“ Killian sighs again, “He thinks they’re memories.” Emma’s jaw drops. 

She’s about to speak when Regina cuts in, “Henry doesn’t _think_ they're memories, he _knows_ they're memories. He was around for most of them, as was I. It makes sense you saw that one right now, seeing as we’re about to face off with the same person who threw you in the water in the first place.”

Emma still looks shocked but is finally able to get a word in, “Henry… he knows about this? How could he, we’ve only _just_ had one…” She turns to Killian and realization washes over her face. He scratches behind his ear, too ashamed to look her in the eye. “You— you’ve been having these all the time haven't you? The sketchbook— they're…”

Killian looks up at her, “Aye, love. Every time we’ve so much as brushed shoulders and even sometimes in my dreams…” He hesitates, but ultimately decides she’s ready to hear the full truth. “Even before you arrived in Storybrooke at all.” Emma looks stunned for only a moment before nodding in understanding.

She opens her mouth to speak but once again gets cut off by Regina, “Ya know, I’m still not entirely sure how you have _years old_ sketchbooks of Miss Swan when in reality she was out of town less than a week. That’s a mystery for later though.” Emma and Killian silently agree to also shrug off _that_ issue. Regina starts moving towards the farmhouse with Emma and him following closely behind. She gets to the bottom of the porch steps and takes a deep breath. Turning towards them she smirks, “Shall we?” They nod reluctantly. “Perfect, time for a little _family_ reunion.”

Regina opens the door with a flick of her wrist and collapses to her knees immediately. Emma gasps beside him and he turns his head towards where they’re looking.

All the air escapes his lungs. 

Henry is suspended in the air, seemingly unconscious. He has scratch marks up and down his wrists as though he struggled against whatever restraints she had him in. He’s always seemed larger than life, too mature for his own good, but right now he looks like the child he is. Killian turns to Emma and sees a tear trail down her cheek, seemingly frozen in place by her shock. Regina is still on her knees, equally frozen. 

Before he can think he lunges towards the door. As he parallels the doorframe, an invisible force thrusts him backwards, flipping his entire body in the process. He lands awkwardly on the steps, groaning. He’s about to run at the door again when Regina’s arm shoots out to stop him. “It’s not going to work, guyliner.” 

He swats her arm away, “We have to do _something_. I'm not just going to stand here and—“ He’s cut off by the sound of Emma’s body hitting the steps. “Swan!” He rushes to her side. 

“I’m fine. It’s fine. We _need_ to get in that house.” She rounds on Regina. “NOW!” 

Regina just shrugs. “It’s a protection spell and it’s going to be a bitch and a half to break—“

“I don’t care, break it.” Killian even flinches at Emma’s tone and is silently thankful he’s not on the other end of it.

“I can’t.” Regina says it’s smugly and Emma looks like she’s going to smack her before she continues, “Not alone anyway…” Regina shoots a glance in Killian’s direction and he realizes what she’s insinuating. 

“No,” he practically whispers it but Regina hears it all the same. 

“Well, do we want to save Henry or not?”

Emma huffs, “What do we need to do, Regina?”

Regina smirks, “Don’t think. Just feel.”

“Don’t I get a magic wand or something?” Killian chokes back a laugh and Emma shoots him a shit-eating smile. Regina practically growls. “Ok sorry sorry, feel? Feel what?”

“Feel what you want, you _want_ to get through the door? You’ll get through the door.”

Emma looks at him, hesitation written all over her face, and he nods hoping to give her even a hint of reassurance. She nods back, hesitation replaced by determination. She closes her eyes and puts up her hands, probably mimicking what she’d seen Regina do. He does his best not to gasp when a bright light radiates from her hands, white and pure, a stark contrast to the red of Regina’s magic. The light shoots towards the door and Regina smiles proudly. 

“That’s it, Miss Swan. Want harder.” 

Emma’s face grows more determined when she opens her eyes, and suddenly, with one last push, the spell blocking the door visibly shatters. Killian can’t stop his feet from running to her side. She’s white as a ghost and shaking as she stares down at her hands. Killian grabs her hands, interlacing their fingers and she looks up at him just before another memory overtakes his vision. 

_She’s in a white cloak surrounded by a field of beautiful pink flowers. It seems they’ve entered the scene mid-conversation, “Now, what don’t you see?”_

_She glances around her. “Rumplestiltskin. He’s gone.”_

_“I’d hoped he might be. By trusting me with your burden you’ve left no room for him in that head of yours.”_

_Emma averts her gaze to his jacket, playing with it’s patterning. She gives a slight smile, something soft and wanton. “Well, now that we’re alone…”_

The vision ends and Killian looks into Emma’s eyes. He can’t help but notice the blush creeping into her cheeks. He smiles at her, “That was bloody brilliant, Swan.”

“Pretty cool, huh? Didn’t know I could— that I had that kind of power…”

“I’m not surprised, love. You’ve enchanted me since the moment I saw you in Granny’s… longer if I’m being entirely honest.” And he was, although he’s not entirely sure why; the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. Emma’s eyes grow wide, but she keeps their hands intertwined. He hears Regina groan and is brought back to reality entirely against his will. 

“If you two are done being nauseatingly in love, can we _please_ save my son.”

Emma stiffens, “Our son, Regina.” She turns to Killian with one more soft smile, “Let’s do th—“

“Ah, ah, ah… not so fast, Emma.” With the interruption, he feels the gooseflesh creep along Emma’s hand and all three of them turn to find Zelena standing in the doorway, right between them and Henry. 

Killian isn't prepared to see Zelena like this, practically dripping _wicked._ He’s never so much as passed by her on the street; everything he knows about her is from Henry. 

Henry. 

He realizes he doesn’t care. He’s about to speak when Regina scoffs, “Leave them alone, sis. _I’m_ the one you’ve got issues with. Let them get Henry and go home so we can figure this out like old times.” As if to punctuate her last point, Regina summons a ball of fire into her hand. He feels Emma tense, still seemingly uneasy with this whole _magic_ thing and he doesn’t blame her. He brushes his thumb over her knuckles and feels her relax a bit. 

“Hah, typical Regina. You think this is all about you.” Zelena practically spits at Regina and suddenly Killian is very confused. From what Regina’s said, Zelena’s entire reason for cursing the town was probably to have everything she felt was taken from her… by Regina.

“Isn’t it? That’s why you’re doing all this.” Regina motions around at nothing in particular. “So you can have the life I supposedly _stole_ from you. The family, the town, the power, you want it all,” Regina scoffs, “even Henry.” 

Zelena sneers, “That was Hades’ intent, yes, but these two,” she points a finger between Emma and him, “are going to fuck it up… again.” Zelena is practically fuming. “Emma wasn’t supposed to come back to Storybrooke. You were all supposed to be miserable. Especially you, Regina, living your life _alone_ knowing everyone you care about doesn’t even know you exist.” Zelena waves her hand and throws Regina up against a tree. Her body goes limp at the base, but even from a distance it’s clear she’s merely unconscious. 

Emma and him both seem entirely stunned to silence as Zelena continues, “But then _you_ show up again,” she’s glaring at Emma, “and that was fine. I didn’t want the brat anyway but Hades said he was a package deal. I let him play his games and run off with you so I could focus on _my_ daughter, that is until Henry slipped up yesterday, whispering to Violet about _Killian Jones_ when he thought I couldn’t hear him. Ha!” Zelena seems to be coming unhinged so Killian takes his chance. 

“‘Me? You’re worried about me? A pirate with one hand and a drinking problem.” 

Emma watches Zelena and Killian like a tennis match. Zelena starts laughing once again, “Worried? Not one bit, _Captain.”_ In that moment, Killian realizes Zelena is not only bluffing, but clueless that they have no recollection of their past life. He sneers at her, ready to use this to his advantage, as she keeps talking, “Just curious as to why you’re here at all. Hades and I made sure the ambrosia was gone before we left. You’re _supposed_ to be in the Underworld. Just how _did_ you manage to escape, Hook?” 

Emma is staring bullets into the side of his head, but hasn’t yet let go of his hand. He squeezes hers a bit tighter and makes eye contact, hoping whatever force allowed them to find each other can also aid in telepathy. He knows his plan won’t work unless Emma plays along, but it’s a chance he’s willing to take. Pulling every memory he can from his drawings and the brief history Henry has shared, Killian takes a deep breath as he steps, no jumps, off a metaphorical cliff, into the role of Captain Hook, most feared pirate in all the realms, reformed villain, and true love of Emma Swan. 

“Deep down you know, Zelena. Darkness doesn’t win. True love wins. Hades did his worst, but our love was stronger—and still is. _That’s_ why you’re nervous I’m here—- that we’re here, together. Because you _know_ you can’t win.” 

He smiles at Emma who looks a tad stunned but seems to have picked up on his plan. He isn’t sure until she speaks, “Not when we’ve found each other.”

With that, something flips in Zelena and if he didn’t know better he’d swear she’s turning green. “You’ll pay for that, _pirate_.” She throws out her hands, a surge of green light charging towards Killian. He flinches, his first instinct to put his left arm up to shield himself and his right to push Emma out of the way, only Emma isn’t there. Before he can register what’s going on, Emma is standing in front of him with a golden light exploding from her hands. Zelena’s green magic is stopped in its tracks, seemingly overpowered by Emma’s. 

“Go! Killian! Now!” Emma is yelling but Killian’s already on his way around the confrontation. He shoots a look back toward Emma and can’t help the proud smile that crosses his face. He’s through the doorway when he hears Zelena scoff. Emma’s dropped her hands, seemingly unable to emit more of the protection spell. 

“Enough of this.” He whips around and with a wave of her hand Zelena freezes both Emma and Regina in place. He’s inches away from Henry now, he turns back around to grab the boy when a searing pain shoots up his spine. 

“You should be _dead_ , Hook.” Zelena spits at him. “You sacrificed yourself to the Underworld and Hades made sure you couldn’t leave, yet here you are meddling in my plans all over again.” The spell feels like a hot iron branding his back and he’s practically immobilized by the pain as Zelena surrounds him. “I’m rather tired of playing these games with you, _Captain_ , and I can’t have Henry waking everyone up; not when I’m this close.”

Killian can barely speak through the pain, but knows his only chance to save Henry is to knock Zelena off her game. He grunts out a retort, “Close to what, _witch_? Your perfect life? Ha! Hades didn’t even bother to stick around for it.” As he speaks, he slowly inches his foot closer and closer to Henry, a glimmer of hope rising in his stomach. 

Zelena’s eyes fill with rage, she responds shrilly, “Hades did this for _me!_ He gave up everything _for me_ ! He gave his life _for me!_ Something you’ll never understand, pirate.” Zelena turns around, cursing underneath her breath while dialing up the pain still scorching his back.

He bites his tongue until he tastes blood in an attempt to ignore the magic burning to his core. He takes a breath and thinks to himself _For Henry_. “That’s where you’re wrong, Zelena.” 

She whips around at his seemingly painless comment. Taking his chance, he detaches his prosthetic and throws it towards Zelena, hitting her perfectly in the hand controlling her spell. As soon as the spell is disrupted, Killian lunges towards Henry’s levitating body and takes the boy in his arms. As he does, the door to the farmhouse bursts open and Regina shoots a fireball towards Zelena. Emma follows with some sort of binding spell and Zelena hits the floor practically petrified. 

Killian is on his knees holding Henry close. His skin is cold, but he can tell the boy is still breathing. Without thinking, Killian removes his jacket and lays it over Henry’s seemingly lifeless body. It’s then when Regina and Emma rush to his side. Emma at Henry’s feet and Regina brushing the hair from his forehead. 

They hear a thump as Zelena tries to shake herself free from Emma’s spell. Regina rolls her eyes, “I suppose I should take care of _her._ Henry will wake up soon, she just put a small knock out curse on him and it’ll wear off the same as her spell on us. He was under longer so it should only take a few more minutes. I’ll deal with Greenie over here and meet you at Granny’s.” Emma nods, Killian still too worried to look away from Henry. With that Regina lays a hand on Zelena and they vanish into a cloud of red smoke. 

Henry’s body temperature is slowly returning, and Emma nonchalantly places a hand on Killian’s back. He winces against her touch and she turns her head in alarm. Slowly she leans backwards, and gasps when she sees what Zelena’s done. 

“That bad, love?” He tries to imbue the sentence with humor, ending it with a soft chuckle. Emma presses her lips together, unamused. She lifts her right hand and slowly moves it over the wound. He feels a tinge of pain and then relief. 

“Apparently that’s a thing.” Emma scoffs. Killian snorts and when he meets her eyes, he swears they get three shades brighter. She opens her mouth to speak just as Henry begins to stir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer one this time around. The final chapter will tie it all with a bow :) Thanks for being here during this journey. I have another fic in the works that I'm excited to share with all of you. I hope everyone is staying happy and healthy in this crazy time. 
> 
> Sending love! Kudos and comments always appreciated :)


	6. Chapter 6

Henry opens his eyes and sees Emma first. “Mom?” 

“Yeah, kid. I’m here.” She smirks at him and then nods towards Killian before standing and walking across the room. 

“Hook?” Killian blushes at the name. 

“Eh, not quite, lad. Still just Killian.” Henry sags a bit, clearly expecting the curse to have lifted. “Hey now, we just defeated a wicked witch without Captain Hook and savior Emma Swan, so it’s not all bad, mate.” He smiles up at Emma as she holds out her hand. He glances down to see her holding his prosthetic out to him. He gulps and nods in thanks. 

“You really defeat her?!” Henry perks up immediately. 

“Yeah, kid, we did. Killian here did most of the work.” Emma offers Henry her hand and he takes it, pulling himself to his feet. Killian goes to argue but Emma shoots him a “don’t you dare” look. 

As Killian stands up, he’s almost knocked over by the force of Henry’s hug. “I know you don’t remember but I do. And you would’ve done this there too and I—,” he buries his head into Killian’s shoulder, muffling what comes next, “Thanks, dad.”

Killian hears him clear as day. 

All the wind feels like it’s been knocked out of him and Killian isn’t entirely sure how he’s still standing. He hugs Henry back, shutting his eyes, too afraid to make eye contact with Emma. “Anytime, my boy.” Henry let’s go and smiles up at Killian. 

Emma smiles at him too. 

He’s pretty positive this is the best moment he’s had in any lifetime. 

Emma puts her arm around Henry’s shoulders, “How about Granny’s, kid?”

“Sounds good to me, I’m  _ starved _ ! Killian, you coming?” Henry looks back at him expectantly and a surge of fear comes over him. He doesn't want to take a chance that prolonging their time together will ruin this moment. Besides, without really ever having his own father figure, he’s not sure he’s cut out to be one. As the doubt creeps in, he plasters a smile to his face, “I’ll catch up with you later, mate. Your other mom will want some time with you, too.”

Emma looks a bit confused but Killian does his best to throw on a reassuring smile. He can tell she’s not convinced, but she leads Henry out of the house anyway. He bounds down the steps in front of her and Emma turns back, resting her hand on his forearm, her pinky gently resting on his brace. His breath hitches, a muted memory filling his mind…

_ “I thought you didn’t care about anyone but yourself.” _

_ “Perhaps I just needed reminding that I could.” _

He knows she sees it too, and she smiles. “Thank you, Killian… for everything.” 

He nods humbly, not sure how to respond without scaring her off (he’s pretty sure yelling ”I love you” would do just that). When it’s clear she wants some sort of response, he musters the courage to look her in the eye, “As I said to the boy, love, anytime.” 

Her face shifts into something like understanding, but then Henry is calling for her from outside and she gives him one last soft smile before bounding down the steps herself.

He stands silently in the middle of the house, suddenly uneasy in the life he feels like he’s always known, and immensely jealous of the other Killian who undoubtedly would’ve joined his family __ for dinner. 

_ Family.  _

He mulls the word over and then takes the long way back to town finding himself at the docks, and walking through the museum which always felt more like home than anywhere else. He stops himself at that thought realizing that it’s no longer true—  _ Emma  _ feels like home. That’s how he finds himself outside Granny’s, staring in at all he  _ hopes  _ for. 

Letting Henry and Emma enjoy their reunion, Killian sits outside on the patio. He runs his good hand through his hair and sighs, reveling in all they just went through. He’s never been so terrified to lose someone before, but when he saw Henry hanging there lifeless, he suddenly didn’t care about his own well-being anymore. He swirls the rum in his tumbler as the bell on Granny’s door rings. Killian glances up at the sound of her voice, “Drinking alone isn’t usually your style, Jones.” Her happiness makes his heart soar, but the reality of what happened to Henry today, and the fact that, despite saving his life they’re still stuck in this twisted reality, weighs heavy. 

Emma sits across from him and casually places her hand on his prosthetic. For once he’s thankful for his metal appendage, as the visions only accompany skin to skin contact, and he’s not entirely sure he has the energy to hide them right now. He smiles softly at her and she studies him. “Thank you for what you did today, Killian.” 

“‘Twas nothing, lass. You would’ve done the same for the boy.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, “Yeah but he’s not your son… not by blood anyway.”

Killian pretends the last part of her sentence doesn’t bring the threat of tears to his eyes. He didn’t realize she had heard him too, and he’s cautious to think she agrees. Unable to speak without a crack in his voice, he simply nods. 

“You risked your life for Henry?” She says it almost as a question, but he knows it’s rhetorical, she was there, and watched the entire thing unfold. 

She studies him harder now, to the point he feels the need to speak but little to no words want to come out. 

Somehow he manages a sturdy, “Aye.” 

As he says it, he looks her in the eye, hoping his gaze can say everything that seems to be lodged sideways in this throat. 

Suddenly Emma is leaning forward, and Killian braces for the impact of what he’s sure will be some of the most vivid and detailed visions yet. 

Sure they’ve kissed before, but in the process of saving Henry today, Killian realized that he is without a doubt, unequivocally, fully, and deeply in love with Emma Swan. It was a realization that punched him in the gut and made him see stars, but he never wants to forget that feeling again. Killian is sure this self-admission will amplify the effects of the visions, but as his lips meet Emma’s there is only silence. This moment of clarity is quickly followed by a rush of air and a flash of light. A flood of visions— no… memories— course through him and when he opens his eyes, Emma,  _ his Emma _ , is looking back at him. 

He hesitates to speak, once again unsure if she’s experienced all that he has. He gets his answer in a breathless, “Killian?” and a slew of desperate kisses peppering his face. “Do you—“ 

“Aye, love.” He brushes the hair from her eyes, “And you?”

“Yes but— how?! How are you here?!” Killian chuckles, despite being fully aware of the toll his most recent death paid on Emma. 

His newly returned memories enlightened him as to how he’s decidedly not dead. “Zeus, he wanted us to defeat Hades and—” She’s peppering him with kisses again, and he can barely speak through his laughter, “Zelena. Something about leveling the playing fiel—“

Emma cuts him off with a kiss on the lips, “I don’t care how or why… you’re here.” She’s looking at him like he’s hung the moon and he takes a mental picture, knowing moments like this have been all too rare in each of their lives. “But wait, the drawings? How did you—“

“Aye, darling, that I’m also unsure of. Presumably another way for Zeus to direct fate, perhaps speed up the process of you inevitably falling for my wit and charm?” He winks at her and flinches at the deserved slap to the shoulder which follows. When cursed, he didn’t even know he had this to miss, yet it still felt like he missed it every single day they were apart. 

“I didn’t even know pirates could draw.” She says, full of mirth. “Let alone prophetically—“ 

“Maybe I can help explain that,” Henry comes bounding down the steps. “Being the author, I’ve always wondered who the artist had been. Everytime a photo would fill the page, it happened like magic, the only indicator of a creator was this tiny signature at the bottom. I couldn’t really make it out until—“ He trails off. 

Killian grabs the book from Henry and inspects where he’s pointing. He gasps when he recognizes his initials on the bottom of the page., “Henry, does this mean—“

“Yup!” Henry seems unphased by this discovery but Killian is reeling and from the look on Emma’s face, so is she.

“But— I don’t remember drawing  _ any  _ of this. How could I—“

Henry interrupts again, “I don’t remember my writing either but some of these are dated hundreds of years ago. Didn’t you say you used to sketch when you were at sea for long periods of time?” 

Killian thinks back, the memory of what he used to draw is fuzzy but he supposes it could’ve been of anything. He was usually half asleep and half in the bag when he was traveling so it’s entirely possible that he… 

Emma is looking at him now, staring intently and smiling widely. “Huh, Jones. Guess we really were meant to be.” She’s joking with him and the elbow in the ribs sells it, but he can tell in her eyes that this means more to her than she’s letting on. He knows Emma used to hate the notion that her life was planned out for her, but he wonders if maybe they’re realizing that fate and destiny aren’t so bad when it comes to true love. 

“I suppose so, love.” He smiles at his  _ family _ . Once again defeating yet another villain and finding each other no matter what. When Henry starts rambling about the book and Emma leans her head onto his shoulder, his entire world seems to shift into balance and a feeling settles into his stomach.

A feeling that dangerously resembles hope. So much so, that when the entire town quakes under their feet and Regina runs from the diner yelling something about Rumplestiltskin, Killian physically has to remove the smile from his face. He’s obviously worried about whatever threat has come upon them once again, but something tells him, no matter what they face, they’ll always find each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it folks! You can assume season five pretty much continues as is canon. Thanks for reading along :) I’m so grateful to all of you. I truly hope you’re staying happy and healthy in these uncertain times.
> 
> Til we meet again (I assure you it will be very soon) ❤️
> 
> check me out on twitter and flail with me a bit: @roiiyham

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!! Comments and kudos are so greatly appreciated <3
> 
> @roiiyham on twitter if you feel so inclined :)


End file.
